


Flowers in Your Hair

by heartfullofyeo (scenarios)



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: "accidental confessions" equates to making a mission to actually confess, Canon Compliant, M/M, accidental confessions, in essence, kinda angsty, legit confessions, this is soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:37:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22764226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scenarios/pseuds/heartfullofyeo
Summary: The one thing Hongjoong wants to do the most is to tell Seonghwa "I love you" without all of the hiccups.
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 13
Kudos: 204





	Flowers in Your Hair

**Author's Note:**

> title inspired from flowers in your hair - the lumineers [yt](https://youtu.be/90sV4_wBv14) || [spotify](https://open.spotify.com/track/3Hvg5tRKsQlX25wYwgMF9p?si=pWvScne3SsicAH6D6sR-bQ)

Everything about him was cold.

From his fingertips to his toes to the tip of his nose to his space in his lungs to the core of his heart. Maybe it’s from the unusually cold day, the wind biting and nipping at the extremities of his body or maybe it’s just one of those days where he felt so very cold and so very alone. The fire in his heart is currently dimmed and he doesn’t know how to reignite its flames. He shivers underneath his bubble coat, shoving his hands deeper in his pockets in an effort to maintain warmth. He pulls his legs up onto his chair and just sits. Just contemplates. These days he’s been holing himself up in the studio, creating and re-making and editing skeletons of the numerous of compositions he’s poured his heart and soul and tears into even though he knows they’ll never see light of day. They’ll never be good. They’ll never be enough. He’ll never be good enough.

There’s a tap on the door before it opens. “Hongjoong let’s go home,” A soft, raspy voice filters through the silent room. It’s Seonghwa. “Hongjoong?” The concern practically drips from the reiteration of his name. He can imagine the face Seonghwa makes; eyebrows furrowed, lips downturned, head tilted. He hates how worried he makes Seonghwa but he’s feeling so weary today. The strength to muster up the energy to placate him isn’t here. Not today.

There’s a silence that stretches in-between his name being said and him responding and he hears Seonghwa shuffling at the door. He can practically hear his thoughts whether he should enter or not. He’s half-way through the door before Hongjoong finally responds.

“You go home first,” He says. It’s supposed to sound reassuring. It’s supposed to sound like he cares. But his own voice betrays him. It’s hollow-sounding and lifeless. It betrays how truly tired he feels.

He buries his face in his knees once he realizes how much closer Seonghwa is from his quiet “Hongjoong,” and Hongjoong feels the worry rolling off him in waves.

“Go home first,” He muffles into his knees, uncaring whether Seonghwa hears him or not. He knows he’s being difficult, but he just needs this moment to himself.

“But—”

“_Please_, Seonghwa.” He says, hardly louder than a breath.

Maybe it was the way his voice trembles when he says ‘please’ or maybe it was the way there was just so much desperation in that one word, but Seonghwa stops. He doesn’t dare raise his head from his knees. He doesn’t want to see the worry plastered across Seonghwa’s face. He doesn’t want to see it knowing he’s the source of it.

A hand hesitantly touches his head. The pressure light but somewhat comforting to Hongjoong at the same time. Seonghwa carefully cards his fingers through Hongjoong’s messy hair. “Just. Come home soon okay?”

A beat passes. He nods weakly.

A puff of air passes through Seonghwa’s lips. It’s a sigh of resignation but still hope underlies it. He squeezes his shoulders before leaving, lingering only slightly at the door before he closes it with a soft _click!_ Now it’s just Hongjoong alone with nothing but his cold thoughts to accompany him. Nothing, but the hot tears that start rolling down his cheeks the moment he’s finally alone.

It’s the only source of warmth left after Seonghwa leaves.

. . .

By the time he finally decides to leave the studio, the night sky is in danger of dawn breaking through the darkness. He winces once he catches sight of the time.

_5:37 AM_. It glares bright in his face as if admonishing him for breaking his unspoken promise with Seonghwa.

Seonghwa.

Hongjoong doesn’t even want to think about what he might do to him when—not if because Seonghwa always somehow knows—he discovers the time he came home. Maybe if he tiptoes quietly enough into their room, it’ll save him from accidentally waking him up. Or maybe, he continues to think as he enters their dorm, he’ll take a quick nap on the couch and he’ll just wake up before any of the other members do. Yeah, he’ll do that, he nods to himself.

But a figure slouched over the table stops him in his tracks. It’s Seonghwa.

Worry, and a smidge of guilt, wells up within Hongjoong at the sight. He knows exactly what Seonghwa was thinking.

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong whispers. He stirs slightly but remains asleep. “Seonghwa, go sleep in bed.” He says just a little louder.

Seonghwa twitches before abruptly sitting up from his slouched-over position. “’joong? What time is it? Why’re you up” He mumbles, sleep still clinging heavily to his words as he rubs his eyes awake.

“Let’s sleep in our room,” Hongjoong says awkwardly. How does he tell him he hasn’t slept yet without alarming him? He ushers Seonghwa up from the table, hands guiding him from their living room to the room they share. Hongjoong tugs Seonghwa towards his bed and pushes him gently on it. He topples over easily as he tucks him underneath his covers. Deeming his job done, he leaves but a hand clinging onto his wrist prevents him from doing so.

“Just sleep with me,” Seonghwa says, eyes clear but a hint of sleepiness could still be seen in his gaze. Hongjoong opens his mouth to protest but Seonghwa’s grip tightens, unwilling to let him go. Hongjoong feels a ghost of a smile creep up his face. A sleepy Seonghwa is a stubborn Seonghwa. It’s cute.

“Okay.”

Hongjoong maintains a distance between them but Seonghwa wraps his arms around him, pulling him closer to cuddle. He resists before he gives up and embraces the cuddles. He lies there, in Seonghwa’s arms, face-to-face, in the dark room that slowly gains light from the lone window they have. Hongjoong is close enough to the point where he could almost begin to count the individual eyelashes that grows along his eyes. And god, he could write a hundred songs about the beauty of Seonghwa. From the shape of his eyes to the slope of his nose to the fullness of his lips. For Seonghwa, he’s a fool. He’s a fool in love and maybe Seonghwa will never know.

“Stop thinking so loud,” Seonghwa says with his eyes closed.

“But—”

“Just sleep, Hongjoong. You’ve worked so hard today,” Seonghwa shifts so now one of his hands cradles Hongjoong’s face into his neck and the other curls around his waist. They’re closer now to the point where they’re sharing body heat with one another.

“You’re always so cold, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa mumbles into the crown of his head. “But that’s okay because I’m here.” He places a barely-there kiss on his forehead. It’s brief but the message it carries is loud and clear. That he will always be there when Hongjoong needs him the most and that Hongjoong can trust him. He isn’t alone.

A flame lights up in his heart. It’s budding and hopeful like the seeds of a flower planted getting ready to be in full bloom.

“Of course.”

. . .

Hongjoong avoids Seonghwa the next couple of days after that.

He doesn’t mean to but after that night, things changed. Granted beforehand, he and Seonghwa had always been somewhat touchy with each other and somewhat, dare he say, closer with each other too but he never really thought about it. Maybe he was willfully ignoring it because he didn’t want to give himself any semblance of false hope. He doesn’t want the rejection that no doubt is waiting for him if he let himself just hope. There’s no time for that.

At least that’s what he convinces himself.

“Hongjoong!” Panicking, Hongjoong quickens his pace down the hall, determined to find someone or something he could use as an excuse to not talk to him. It’s a really shitty thing to do, but Hongjoong’s on the verge of a breakdown and that’s not something he wants happening in front of anyone.

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa easily catches up to him. Hongjoong curses his short legs. It seems like for every two steps he takes, Seonghwa is able to cover it within a single stride. “Didn’t you hear me?”

“I, uh, no. I mean, yes—that was you?” He blubbers out. Hongjoong can’t get his thoughts in order quick enough to mumble out an excuse.

“Oh.” Disappointment drips from that one word alone uttered from Seonghwa’s lips. His face contorts slightly and Hongjoong looks away first. He can’t stand it when Seonghwa looks at him like that. Can’t stand it when he looks at Hongjoong with so much goddamn hope, and Hongjoong only serves to fail him time and time again.

“Yeah,” he says to fill the space. A sort of rift has opened between them, and Hongjoong tries so hard to smile. There’s a prevalent emptiness that’s between them now and he doesn’t know what to do. He can’t grasp it by the edges because there isn’t anything tangible to hold onto. Instead, he grips the edges of his shirt and unconsciously holds his breath a little longer for every minute more he spends with Seonghwa.

Loud footsteps come echoing down the hall. Sharp laughter accompanies it as it grows closer to them. Hongjoong anticipates who it is and he’s right—it’s Wooyoung.

“Wooyoung!” Hongjoong shouts just as his figure blurs past them. Jogging back and a little breathless, Wooyoung says, “Yes, hyung?” with his head tilted and with curiosity dancing behind his eyes.

“I just, um,” Hongjoong fumbles with his words. Seonghwa’s gaze heavy on him but he keeps his focus on Wooyoung. The slightest slip up and he’s gone. “I just wanted your opinion on something.” Wooyoung leans in slightly to catch the end of his sentence. His eyes go from him to Seonghwa and back to him again, and Hongjoong doesn’t know if it’s the desperation in his voice or the way his eyes look but within that moment of hesitation, Wooyoung plays along.

“I need to run something by you anyways,” Wooyoung says in his usual happy tone. It’s bright and soft and hearing it soothes Hongjoong somewhat. Wooyoung has that startling effect on him where he helps ease the tightness lodged in his chest. Even if it’s the slightest bit, it helps Hongjoong breath again. Wooyoung shrugs at Seonghwa before he’s pulled away by Hongjoong.

Hongjoong faces Seonghwa one last time before they leave and the words he wanted to say get lodged up in his throat. A frown decorates his lips and Seonghwa stares at Hongjoong as he retreats. His breath hitches and his words are forgotten as the intensity of his gaze only increases the further he and Wooyoung go.

“What’s wrong?” Wooyoung asks once they reach Hongjoong’s small work room.

“What makes you think anything’s wrong,” Hongjoong denies with a shake of his head. It’s fine. Everything’s fine. There’s nothing wrong. Of course not. The only things wrong is that he tends to get stuck in his head sometimes, but something else to be addressed later.

“But thanks for that earlier. Sorry for interrupting you from whatever. You can go back to what you were doing.” Hongjoong powers on the computer, fiddling around with the equipment he has set up.

“Hyung,” and before he could react, Wooyoung has both his hands around his face, squishing his cheeks together in the process as he forces him to look him in the eyes. “It’s okay. You can tell me.”

Hongjoong stops and just looks at Wooyoung. His eyes piercing with unshed tears. He manages a half-smile, to stay strong, you know, because he’s the leader. There is no such thing as ‘weakness’ or at least, there shouldn’t be. Not in Hongjoong’s opinion. He can’t show it—no, because If he does, it’ll consume him. The moment he lets even a finger of it through, it will crawl its way out of Hongjoong and devour him whole. He can only smile no matter how brittle it feels.

He places his hands on top of Wooyoung’s, clutching them softly, marveling on the inside how there was such a difference between them, and he thinks about how Wooyoung’s hands are hands that hold and guide and protect and how his can do nothing. His hands can only cover his shame.

Hongjoong takes comfort in the small dosages he can from this. “It’s nothing,” he says. Maybe his eyes shine unnaturally and his voice shakes, but Hongjoong stands as tall as he is, spine straight with resolve. It’s weak, but Wooyoung doesn’t have to know even if it’s obvious as hell. “Thank you.”

Wooyoung searches his face, his eyes, for a hint of anything that could cause him to rebuke back but Hongjoong stays strong. He’s good at that. The whole faking it.

“Hyung,” Wooyoung says it almost like a prayer. Hongjoong almost gives in from how intense Wooyoung’s gaze is. His eyes are only sincere, Hongjoong knows, but he can’t possibly burden anyone. Not if he’s leader. “Hyung,” he says again, this time a little more hesitant, like he didn’t know if he should continue or not. Like he was conflicted between trying to be good and being respectful and showing he cares about Hongjoong. “You deserve to make pretty things for yourself too.”

Wooyoung’s hands are warm on his cheeks, and they stay warm even long after he leaves—however reluctant he is—Hongjoong to his lonesome. The spots on his cheeks tinge still in the familiarity of Wooyoung’s touch even as hot tears roll down his cheeks along the very same path in which Hongjoong was held. He should allow himself small mercies too, he knows.

You deserve to make pretty things for yourself too.

It sticks to him, attaching itself like a thought to his brain, and Hongjoong can’t help but wonder what pretty things he’s made for his members.

. . .

The door to his and Seonghwa’s room opens. It’s one of those rare days where Hongjoong is in the dorms and not in isolated away in his small studio.

“Hyung?”

Hongjoong looks up from his position on his bed and sees San poking his head in. He waves at him. “Seonghwa’s not in right now sorry,” because the other members tend to snuggle with Seonghwa whenever they’re feeling extra touchy. San loves to cuddle. It’s a known fact within the group that sometimes, when he needs a little extra love, he’ll snuggle up to any member.

San shuffles in, dragging his feet slightly as he approaches him. “What’s wrong, San?” Hongjoong asks, attentive to any shift in facial expression San might make that would give away his thoughts. San juts his lips out a little, seemingly in concentration as he looks at Hongjoong from beneath his bangs. It never quite fails to make Hongjoong laugh a little on the inside because the length of his hair ends just beneath his brows and he wonders how it hasn’t bothered San yet.

San paces around the room, looking at the little knick-knacks and memos they have strewn everywhere on their desks and drawers. “Nothing’s wrong,” he slowly approaches the bed and Hongjoong moves over, creating as much space as he can on his small twin-sized bed. San sees that and he takes the opportunity presented to him and gets underneath the covers, joining Hongjoong. It’s not a tight fit; not at all. It’s comfortable.

San lies on his side, facing Hongjoong and Hongjoong does the same. He puts away his book and shifts to the same position as San. There’s about a half an arm’s length of space between them. Hongjoong throws an arm over San’s waist as he scoots closer. Now, they’re barely a hairbreadth away from each other.

“I just wanted to cuddle,” San whispers. Hongjoong almost misses it with how delicate San is, the words tip-toeing their way out of his lips. He’s fresh-faced and it strikes Hongjoong with how _young_ San looks. Of course, they’re all young but it slips Hongjoong’s mind with how much confidence and charisma and charm oozes off his members. San especially.

It slips his mind, but he doesn’t forget. Will never forget because it’s his job to be that all-encompassing leader for his members. Arms spread wide opened, accepting and all. Under his care, he vows he won’t ever let his members cry alone.

“Seonghwa isn’t here so I hope you don’t mind me,” Hongjoong teases with a half-smile pulled up on his lips. He knows how often the others spend time with Seonghwa. He isn’t jealous. He could never be. It’s Hongjoong’s fault for isolating himself away and losing precious time with his members. He only tries his best and he hopes and prays that it will be enough in the end.

San buries his face into Hongjoong’s neck as he pulls him closer. “I never mind if it’s you,” comes muffled from his neck and it makes his heart so so full.

Hongjoong threads his fingers through San’s hair at the back of his head. It’s soft and shiny and smells like lavenders. He stops stroking the back of his head once he hears San’s breathing regulate. It’s a stretch to turn off the side lamp but he manages without jolting San too much, so Hongjoong considers that a success.

It’s extra warm tonight but it’s not from the extra body heat that’s invaded his bed. No—it’s extra warm from the secure embrace from San.

Hongjoong’s just on the cusp of sleep when he hears it. “Hyung. You and Seonghwa hyung, whatever thing that’s between you two, it’s beautiful and sweet and pure.” He blinks, succumbing to the edge of oblivion that looms over him that promises to take his mind away to the sweet land of sleep.

“You deserve everything, Hongjoong hyung,” and everything said after that is lost as Hongjoong falls and falls and falls into slumber. He’ll ask in the morning, he thinks but the thought is fleeting and is lost instantly the moment he takes his mind off it.

Hongjoong dreams of bright laughter and of hands that hold his shoulders. They guide him somewhere to a place unknown even in his dreamscape. It’s a field full of vivid dandelions—both bloomed and with the seed heads shown. A hand picks up a dandelion with the seed head and frustration bubbles up within Hongjoong because the figure itself is blurry within his dream.

“My only desire is for you to see me,” the figure blows the dandelion seeds away and it’s a picturesque scenario. One by one the seeds float away in a flurry. Hongjoong holds his up within the dream and he can’t hear his own words spoken within the dream. He only knows how content he is with watching the sunset in this field of bright yellow dandelions.

. . .

A hand touches his forehead, the sensation cooling Hongjoong as he fights to open his eyes, but he can’t. No matter how much he wills his eyelids to open, they stay glued shut.

“—ong. Hongjoong?” He recognizes that voice anywhere. Of course, it’s Seonghwa. It is always, Seonghwa.

“Hongjoong, you’re burning up,” Hongjoong is able to open his eyes, but it’s brief. The sudden light that enters his field of vision hurts. He can’t get Seonghwa’s worried look from out of his face though—the scrunch between his brows and the way he viciously chews on his lips from worry. Seems like the only thing Hongjoong is good for is always making Seonghwa worry.

Swatting his hand away—or at least trying to as Hongjoong’s hand doesn’t even make it halfway before he decides it’s too much effort to try. He settles with a grunt and tries shielding himself by pulling his blankets up. That doesn’t work out so well either. “’m okay,” he croaks out. Okay, maybe not so okay after all, but Hongjoong doesn’t like admitting defeat so easily.

“Jus’ gimme a couple of minutes.”

A distressed noise and a hand carding through his sweaty bangs make Hongjoong melt. He gets weird and fuzzy and warm whenever Seonghwa shows he cares about Hongjoong. God, he’s so, _so_ in love with him it’s ridiculous. He loves Seonghwa; there, Hongjoong admits it.

Well, not like he was ever in denial. Hongjoong is sure he’s reminded everyday of the fact that he loves Seonghwa. He’s reminded of this when Seonghwa brings him a cup of water, reminding him to stay hydrated in the studio. He’s reminded of this when Seonghwa stays up waiting for him to return and when he never fails to ask Hongjoong if he’s eaten yet. He’s reminded of this when Seonghwa holds him in his arms, close to his chest, and hums Hongjoong his favorite song of the day, effectively lulling him to sleep.

The hand in his hair stops abruptly. Whining unintentionally, Hongjoong conjures up the last bit of strength he has within him and opens his eyes. Only to be greeted to the sight of a very wide-eyed Seonghwa staring at him.

“Why’d you stop,” Hongjoong asks as he feels a headache on-coming just by trying to think. The flood of light in their room doesn’t help and neither does Seonghwa’s astonished face.

Stuttering, Seonghwa’s cheeks quickly start turning red. “I—do you really mean it?” He stares at Hongjoong and accompanying him is the sunlight that penetrates through their thin curtains, giving Seonghwa an almost outer-worldly aura.

Wracking his brain for what Seonghwa refers to, Hongjoong quickly realizes his error. He corrects himself in a hurry, spitting out the first words he thinks of. “It isn’t what you think,” and it comes out a lot more panicked than he intends.

Visibly, Seonghwa deflates and it’s like the world grows dimmer with his hopeful look gone. He smiles again, but this time it’s a lot less sincere and a lot phonier. Hongjoong wonders when exactly it is when he started figuring out the differences in Seonghwa’s smiles. The most genuine of them are when he full out smiles, teeth on display and laughing without a care in the world. This smile is one of those close-lipped smiles that are reserved for when Seonghwa is disappointed or on the verge of tears.

“O-okay. I think I hear the others so I’m gonna just go now,” Seonghwa walks away. “Feel better soon okay, Hongjoong,” and still, Seonghwa still smiles at him, no matter how small it is.

Hongjoong throws himself back onto his bed. Frustration builds up within him. How could he be so stupid pushing Seonghwa away like that. Hongjoong knows he’s a coward though, and he could never let him know his true feelings even if it did slip out a little today.

“Fuck,” he says to himself as his arm covers his eyes. “What did I just do.”

He sits up, determined to make things right by saying everything he’s always wanted to say to Seonghwa and more. Hongjoong is tired of dancing around his feelings and he’s tired of being in that ambiguous zone where neither he nor Seonghwa know where they stand with each other. It’s a little more that ‘friends’ but it’s less than ‘lovers’. Hongjoong wants Seonghwa to be his lover, and he hopes that Seonghwa does too.

. . .

Saying and doing are two completely different things, Hongjoong finds as he hasn’t held a full conversation with Seonghwa in what feels like days. Every time he catches Seonghwa, they are either interrupted by the others or Hongjoong chickens out and ends up tongue twisted as he manages to instead stammer out some other topic that _isn’t_ him confessing to Seonghwa.

The right way to go about it would be sitting down with the aforementioned person and laying himself all out, bare feelings and all as it is only both of them undisturbed by the others. The wrong way to do it is holing himself up in the studio as he writes sappy lyrics about Seonghwa and how Hongjoong loves how much he _cares_. Hongjoong also thinks he’s got some lyrics somewhere about how hot Seonghwa is too, but he won’t venture there.

“I’m hopeless,” Hongjoong groans onto the hard surface of the table. The dim studio lights make him sleepy and the bright glare of the computer screen makes his brain hurt and strains his eyes.

“What am I going to do, just say ‘I love you?’” He stares lifelessly at a spot in the wall. Hongjoong can’t bring himself to say those three words to Seonghwa because he’s afraid of their whole group’s dynamic changing if he is rejected.

_”You know, Seonghwa hyung stares at you the same way you stare at him, right?” Yunho says one day out of the blue. Hongjoong snaps his head up at him and he’s there staring back at Hongjoong with flushed cheeks from just waking up and a milk carton in hand. Hongjoong hums disbelievingly as he watches Yunho chug down milk straight from the carton in disgust. _

_“It’s true, and if you don’t believe me—well, ask any of the others. Kind of tired of all this unnecessary tension between you two so just make out already or something.” Shrugging his shoulders, Yunho nonchalantly places the milk carton back in its rightful space and leaves to bug someone._

_Hongjoong stares at his hands, wondering if what Yunho said is true and he wonders what it is like to hold Seonghwa’s hands within his. Could he make pretty things with Seonghwa too?_

His blaring ringtone scares Hongjoong as he searches for it amidst loose paper that is, well, everywhere.

“Hello?”

“Hongjoong, are you busy right now?” It’s Seonghwa. Suddenly, there’s a nervousness that rises within Hongjoong.

“No, I’m not doing much. No,” Wincing as he repeats himself over the phone. He thanks his lucky stars that it’s just him within the studio room and no one else. No one can laugh at his fumbles, but it’s Seonghwa. Anyone would stumble around him. He has that effect.

“Okay. I’m going to bring some food over, ‘kay? See you soon,” Hongjoong only has time to mumble out a small “okay,” before Seonghwa hangs up on him. His nerves are pooled up within his guts and Hongjoong doesn’t know if he wants to cry or throw up, so he settles on sitting on the couch, dazed, before a knock is heard at the door.

“It’s opened,” he yells out. Hongjoong watches it open in anticipation and Seonghwa’s face eventually emerges from behind the frosted glass door.

“Hey,” he sets down the take-out boxes on the table as Seonghwa sits down next to him. “I realized you didn’t eat yet and it’s late but I didn’t want to bother you by just showing up so I called you but that’s the same thing as bothering you right,” he starts rambling on. Hongjoong giggles, stopping Seonghwa mid-rant as he pouts at him.

“Don’t laugh at me,” he says with a pout as Seonghwa starts opening up the take-out boxes.

Hongjoong stares, eyes affixed on Seonghwa’s lips. They look soft and glossy from just-applied lip balm, and Hongjoong thinks that it is either now or never to confess to him. He stares at Seonghwa’s side-profile for just a moment longer, admiring everything about him as he gathers his wits and courage.

Tugging Seonghwa’s sleeve, Hongjoong gets Seonghwa to face him again, telling him to forget about the food for a second as Hongjoong slowly inches his hand to his. His fingers touch his cold hand, and his hands opens for his to hold. Gingerly, Hongjoong holds Seonghwa’s hands—cold for once as his are usually the cold ones—and brings it up to his cheek. The icy feeling like a douse of water that clears Hongjoong’s head from all the muddled thoughts he has flying around his head.

Hongjoong presses a tender kiss against the back of Seonghwa’s hand. It’s fleeting; just the barest hint of lips, but it’s there, and the whole time he watches Seonghwa’s carefully controlled expression.

“I’m sorry I took so long,” Hongjoong starts off with an apology. Seonghwa’s intake of breath indicates the words he has to say but Hongjoong shushes him and continues on. “I’m sorry for making you doubt yourself. I’m so grateful to have you in my life, and I’m sorry I don’t tell you I appreciate all that you do for me. For us, the whole team, too.”

“Hongjoong you…”

Shaking his head, Seonghwa’s words die in his throat and Hongjoong continues, trembling a little but he has to get these words out. This is the moment of truth, and Hongjoong wants to spend this time being completely open with Seonghwa. Wants to say all the words he’s never said before. Wants to convey all the delicate feelings that have bloomed within him from Seonghwa just being Seonghwa.

“I love you, Seonghwa, and it’s okay if you don’t return my feelings,” Hongjoong says as he loosely holds his hand within his now. His eyes trace every curve and bump on Seonghwa’s face and all of the sappy words from his lyrics arise in his thoughts again. Seonghwa is like coming home to Hongjoong.

The silence grows, but Hongjoong lets it be. Seonghwa hasn’t pulled his hand away from his yet, so there’s a dim flame of hope within his chest at all of the possible _maybes_.

“I’ve been waiting for you to say that,” Seonghwa finally says as he stares down at their connected hands. Hongjoong begins rubbing small circles on that back of Seonghwa’s to ease him, letting him know he’ll wait for him. Hongjoong will wait for forever and a day if Seonghwa asks. He would wait for an eternity if asked, and Hongjoong doesn’t really believe in rebirth, but he prays that if it’s true, then he and Seonghwa will be reborn again in each other’s lives because Hongjoong will wait then, too.

“I love you despite all your faults, because neither of us are perfect,” he smiles at Hongjoong and he’s never been so in love with someone just from their smile. With Seonghwa, he conveys everything through his smiles, and this is how Hongjoong knows.

Hongjoong leans closer to Seonghwa as he speaks. He doesn’t move an inch. Seonghwa allows him to close the distance between them. “Never change,” Seonghwa whispers just as Hongjoong closes the gap between their lips.

Seonghwa’s lips are just as soft as Hongjoong always thought them to be.

**Author's Note:**

> if you're curious, this is the first wip i started when i thought about seriously writing back in feb 2019, and i started seriously stanning ateez back in jan 2019. hongjoong was my first bias in ateez, and he does hold a special place in my heart; most of my first wips (that may never see light of day lol) is hongjoong centric. i think i have maybe three others. i've come a long way since then, i hope, in terms of writing maybe? i hope you love this baby just as much as i do.
> 
> emily, rene, and lumi had really encouraged me to write and were the first ppl i rlly interacted with in atinydom so im rlly grateful for them.
> 
> ty for reading.


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